Line in the Sand
by MMB
Summary: Sydney teaches Miss Parker an important lesson in surviving at the Centre.


Line in the Sand  
by MMB  
  
Finished with his lunch, having taken a genuine break in the cafeteria for a change rather than nibbling for hours in the midst of experiments, Sydney walked down the hallway back toward the Sim Lab and paused for a moment in front of Miss Parker's office door. The silver-haired psychiatrist had lost track of how many times over the past few weeks he'd walked past that door for one reason or another and neither been summoned within nor had a reason to beg admittance. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen Miss Parker at all in well over two weeks, something that was beginning to bother him.  
  
Everything that had held the three of them - himself, Miss Parker and Broots - together as members of a team for half a decade seemed to have evaporated since the crash of the Centre jet and the death of the Chairman months ago. Their current activity could hardly be called a 'hunt' when the object of their search was nowhere to be found. Jarod had vanished completely, leaving not the slightest clue to his whereabouts and only a few isolated and untraceable phone calls to assuage his mentor's worries about his general wellbeing - although whether Jarod had also called HER or not, Sydney had no way of knowing. Miss Parker was being decidedly closed-mouthed about everything lately - not that she'd ever really been open about her extracurricular contacts with Jarod anyway.  
  
Broots had found his time increasingly occupied with designing and then writing the code for new security programs to protect the Centre mainframe from either internal or external hacking. He and Sydney had conferred over lunch not long after this new assignment had come along, and Broots had voiced his suspicion that Mr. Raines was trying to close any loophole by which Jarod could siphon more funds or information from the Centre itself. Sydney had smiled to himself at hearing that - while Broots' skill at making computers do exactly what he wanted them to was virtually without rival, the only person more capable than Broots was the one Raines was attempting to lock out. If there was any way into the system at all, Jarod would find it and slip in easily - it was something for which he had trained for the greater part of his life. Still, Broots was much more contented and relaxed doing what he did best.  
  
As for himself, Sydney couldn't claim to be too terribly displeased that his time was now being filled with his own research and the sudden burden of responsibility for the cases that had been begging for attention since Mr. Raines had begun his new career as Chairman. While he had been forced to deal with no shortage of ethical concerns that the condition of several of his new patients raised, he otherwise found himself genuinely contented to being a simple clinical psychiatrist for a change. The prospect of actually helping people get emotionally better - or probing more deeply into his own research with twins - made the loss of Jarod's company, and that of Miss Parker and Broots to a lesser extent, more bearable.  
  
At least, it did most of the time.  
  
The silence that screamed from behind those glass doors was deafening, and suddenly Sydney had had enough of it. His next clients weren't due into the Lab until later in the afternoon - and he could always postpone this research interview to another time. Right now there was another who needed his help, whether she realized it or not - although getting past her prickly defenses to provide that help might prove the trickier prospect. He took a deep breath to make sure his courage would hold, and then knocked.  
  
"Go away." The tone of voice was unequivocal.  
  
He pushed the door open anyway and stepped resolutely inside.  
  
"I thought I told..." Eyes the color of storm clouds glared up, not quite spitting lightening at the figure standing at her office door. The moment she recognized her visitor she settled back, mollified. "Oh, it's you."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you," Sydney quipped dryly.  
  
"You didn't... I thought..." She shook her head and waved her hand, negating the past few moments. "Forget it. Come on in, Syd. What can I do for you?"  
  
He stepped into the office with the permission, and he walked to stand just opposite the desk from her. "You look tired, Parker," he said gently, giving her an easy opening.  
  
"You try having Raines climbing your back every day for a week, complaining that we're not getting anywhere near catching Jarod, and you'd be looking tired too, Freud," she came back bitterly. She leaned back in her chair and studied him back for a moment. "What brings you here today?"  
  
He hadn't really expected her to open to him easily, but he'd had to at least try. So it was on to Plan B. "I need you to do me a favor," he replied in a confidential tone. Subterfuge in their relationship wasn't really playing fair he knew, and under any other circumstances he would have avoided it like the plague. The last thing he needed to do at this late date was to make her trust him any less than she already did. But as far as he was concerned, the stakes were high enough to warrant a little bending of the rules - and besides, he knew all too well that he was a master at damage control. It was the only way he had survived in this place for so long after all.  
  
"Name it." Miss Parker could see that behind the calm chestnut eyes of her old friend lay a disquiet that bothered her.   
  
"Come with me for a bit," Sydney suggested with a jerk of the head.  
  
"What?" That wasn't what she had expected.  
  
"It isn't as if you look like you were engrossed in anything particularly vital at the moment," he pointed out, giving an obvious glance to the virtually clear desk in front of her and her nearly empty Inbox. "C'mon. Grab your purse and coat."  
  
Something in his tone moved her to rise and follow his instructions, but she frowned at the same time. "Where are we going? Sydney..."  
  
"You'll see," he smiled conspiratorially at her and then settled her elbow into the palm of his hand the moment she had her coat draped over one arm and her purse slung over a shoulder. He gallantly opened the door for her and escorted her down the hall to the elevator.   
  
They had just stepped inside and Sydney had punched the button for the parking garage when they could hear Mr. Raines calling from the direction of her office, "Has anybody seen Miss Parker anywhere?"  
  
"Looks like I owe you one," she commented with a hint of gratitude. "I don't know what he thinks he's going to accomplish by hounding me when..."  
  
"Don't feel singled out. From what I hear, he's hounding Lyle too," Sydney told her with a sly grin. "Broots says that Lyle is positively terrorizing the secretarial and tech staff with demands that aren't producing substantial results for him either. He gets regular visits from Mr. Raines as well, I'd imagine."  
  
"Ha!" he heard her snort in derision. "Lyle couldn't find Jarod with both hands even if Jarod was a pimple on Lyle's ass." She glanced up into the psychiatrist's face to find both silvered eyebrows climbing towards a long-vanished hairline and a genuinely amused smile on his face. "You liked that one, did you?" she noted with satisfaction.  
  
"Yes," he chuckled heartily. "Verrrry good visual imagery. I imagine your reports can be very interesting reads from time to time."  
  
"So," she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm this time in a more familiar and intimate gesture, "where ARE we going?"   
  
"You'll see," he only repeated cryptically. "But trust me, you'll be glad you came."  
  
"You're being awfully mysterious."  
  
"I'm a shrink," he reminded her in a glib tone. "I have a medical degree specializing in mysterious, with a minor in psychobabble. You know this."  
  
Now it was Miss Parker's eyebrows that were skyrocketing. "And you're in a pretty damned feisty mood too for being so mysterious. Tell me, who put the Metamucil in your Wheaties today, Pavlov?"  
  
"Let's just say I came to some unsettling conclusions today," he replied as the elevator door slid aside and he led her in the direction of his car.   
  
Miss Parker heard the little blip that told her that the passenger door was unlocked, and she stepped away from him to go to that side of the car. "What kind of conclusions?"  
  
He slid into the driver's seat next to her and was buckled quickly. "About having been remiss in taking care of things that are important," he answered her and turned on the ignition.   
  
"I'm getting tired of half-answers, Sydney," she sighed finally, "and unlike you, I didn't minor in patience in college. So either you come clean and tell me where we're going RIGHT NOW, or..."  
  
"It's not far," he admitted, then reached out to grasp her left wrist to hold her in place before she could reach for the door handle and flee. "Give me twenty minutes, Parker. Please. After that, if you wish, I'll bring you back. I promise." He released her wrist before she could complain. "After all, if you went back now, you'd have to face..."  
  
"...Raines," she finished the thought with a disgusted look on her face. "When you put it that way..." She reached for the seat belt and buckled herself in. "Ready when you are, Mario."  
  
Sydney didn't wait for further encouragement, but immediately began backing the Lincoln from its designated space and easing it onto the Centre drive. He gave a casual wave to the guard in the security box at the gate and then turned the car south towards Blue Cove.  
  
"Something in town I need to see?" Miss Parker asked, her curiosity rising again.  
  
"No. Just be patient a little while longer." He watched her cast him a frustrated glance and then stare out the window impatiently. "I bet you could hardly wait to open Christmas presents when you were younger."  
  
Miss Parker didn't qualify that remark with a response but rather schooled her expression so that she wasn't pouting quite so obviously. After all, Sydney HAD rescued her from yet another of Raines' interminable harangues, and at the moment she was feeling more relaxed and secure in his company than she'd been in all the weeks since Carthis. She couldn't stay angry or frustrated with him for long when he'd been genuinely helpful. Besides, Sydney so rarely initiated action - and when he did, it usually was because there was a genuine need. If for no other reason but that, she owed him the benefit of the doubt.  
  
Then the Lincoln was slowing to turn into a small dirt road that headed towards the ocean, and Sydney navigated the potholed and twisting cow path with a patience and skill that implied that he was familiar with the obstacles. "Walking on the wild side today?" she quipped with a sideways glance.  
  
He didn't respond, but merely pulled the heavy sedan to a halt when the road just... ended ...at a set of hefty-looking driftwood logs. "You might want your coat," he told her as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.  
  
Miss Parker followed suit and then gazed forward. They were parked at the edge of a small sand dune, beyond which was a very private, very secluded stretch of white sand beach. She took a step and looked down when it was harder for her to get a solid purchase on the ground only to find herself already sunk nearly to the ankles in the soft white stuff. "You gonna be able to back your tank outta here when we're done with whatever it is you want to show me?" she asked, her voice just a little tighter.  
  
"Don't worry about the car," he soothed and held a hand out to her. "C'mere."  
  
"What the Hell..." she began as she walked towards him.  
  
"Here - lean against the car and take your shoes off. It will make walking easier."  
  
"Take my shoes off? You've GOT to be kidding!" Her expression was incredulous. "I don't know what kind of stuff you've been smokin' down in the Sim Lab lately, but..."  
  
Sydney sighed and just looked at her. "Must you argue with everything I say?" he grumbled in obviously restrained frustration. "Just take your shoes off, Parker. What's the problem?"  
  
She thrust a hand onto a hip. "The problem is that you aren't answering my questions and now are asking me to disrobe..."  
  
"Fine. Suit yourself. Although I thought you'd rather spare your nice and expensive heels from getting wet or breaking."  
  
Her jaw dropped. "Why on earth would they do that?"  
  
"Because you have to walk through a lot of this loose sand to get to the water's edge so you can walk the beach properly, and that could be very hard on those high heels of yours. Not to mention walking at the water's edge could get them quite wet and ruin them, " he explained patiently. He knew the time had come for him to explain everything, so he continued before she had a chance to do much more than just open her mouth. "You've been very quiet lately - ever since you got home from..." He cut that statement short; he could see the emotions churning in her already. "You won't talk to me, and lately you've seemed to just be withdrawing from everything and everyone. It isn't healthy, Parker."  
  
"And this IS?" she asked, throwing her hand toward the ocean.  
  
"Sometimes, when a person is troubled, it helps just to walk the edge of the water - to let the ocean wash their feet. I can appreciate your not wanting to confide in me or anybody else - considering everything that's happened lately, I can see how it would be difficult to know whom to trust - but I can still see what's going on inside. I'd have to be blind not to notice. You have to do something before you fall apart." He put his hand very carefully and lightly on her shoulder. "So I brought you here, where you can walk the beach without anybody else watching or interrupting you. I'll stay back here and guard your shoes and stockings until you're done."  
  
"You're serious."   
  
"Absolutely." From his tone, she could tell he was. "If you won't let me help you as a psychiatrist, at least let me help you as a friend. Go walk the beach, Parker. Just walk and let go of everything - for a little while. You need this."  
  
"I haven't done anything like this for ages," she commented in a voice that was far from demanding or impatient, already lifting a foot to remove a shoe.  
  
Sydney watched her place her stilettos on the warm hood of his car. "Then I'd say it's long past time," he responded, and then watched her peel her knee-highs from her feet as well. "Roll your pants legs up too. That's a nice suit - you don't need to stain it with salt water."  
  
She bent to take his advice. "I'll get sand in your car..."  
  
"It'll vacuum out later. Go on." He gestured with his nose.   
  
"Why don't you..." She waved a finger at his feet.  
  
"Because this is YOUR time - I'll have mine another time, I promise." He grinned at her. "If ever I come up missing at home, at the Lab and with my cell, you'll know where I am. Just don't tell anybody else, OK? Let's let this spot be just between the two of us."  
  
"I think I can manage that," she replied and walked a few steps toward the dune before turning. "Syd?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Thanks." She gave him a soft smile, the smile of a friend.  
  
He nodded and waved her on. "Enjoy your walk."  
  
With that, she pulled her coat a little closer around her against the stiff ocean breeze and walked resolutely over the loose sand of the dune and then onto the damper and more packed sand of the beach itself. A backward glance found Sydney leaning against the hood of his car, his arms crossed in a habitual gesture of thoughtfulness and observation - for the moment he was apparently content playing emotional lifeguard. Miss Parker turned back, eyed the water in front of her to gauge just how high the tide was running, then walked to the water's edge and felt the first wave of chilled water lap at her feet and ankles.  
  
After finally placing the call that postponed his afternoon appointment until the next day, Sydney stood guard as he had promised and watched as Miss Parker spent the better part of an hour walking slowly from one end of the beach to the other and back again. She paused often to just stand and stare out over the restless water while that same water lapped often at her feet. Even though he was quite a distance back from the water, he could feel the calm and serenity of the place penetrating his own mood. He'd needed this visit himself, and he could only hope that she was open to the same experience. Either way, it was good to share this spot with someone again, he decided - he imagined that Michelle had long since forgotten that this stretch of beach even existed. And everybody deserved a place to retreat to, a refuge - he could think of nobody at the Centre more in need of refuge than Miss Parker.   
  
When she finally made her way back across the sand to the car, her face bore evidence of the emotions she'd dealt with by the amount of repair she'd need to do to her makeup to look 'presentable' again. But her eyes had a calm to them that had been missing before. He watched wordlessly, unwilling to break whatever mood she'd gained, as she hopped up on the front bumper next to him to let her legs dry and brush as much of the sand away as possible so she could put her stockings and shoes back on again.   
  
"Tell me," she asked in a soft and pensive tone, "when you gave Jarod his 'safe' word, was this place what you were thinking of?"  
  
He glanced at her sharply, but found nothing ulterior in her expression to prevent him from telling her the truth. "Yes."  
  
"Then you need to tell him of this place someday," she suggested in that same tone. "He needs to know his refuge has a basis in reality."  
  
"What's brought this about?" he couldn't help asking, moving closer so he could see her face even when it was turned away.  
  
She just shook her head. "Just tell him one of these days, Syd." She leaned and began futilely brushing the sand from her feet and legs. "God, this stuff is just like..."  
  
"You need to wait until you're completely dry, then it brushes away easily," he assured her. "I've walked the beach on lunch breaks many times over the years. I know." He looked out across the beach and out to sea, remembering.  
  
Miss Parker gazed up at him. For all that she'd known him for as long as she could remember, Sydney was still very much an enigma to her. She could never be sure what permutation of him would approach her at any particular time, because it seemed he moved so effortlessly, so seamlessly, between his many faces. She couldn't know until he opened his mouth at any one time if he was being a willing and malleable Centre operative, a gifted scientist and therapist or a soft-spoken friend and protective father figure. He'd been betrayed by the Centre almost as often and as tragically as any of them had been, and still he stayed on in his Sim Lab. He had told his share of lies over the years or through his silence allowed lies to stand as truths, and yet she had discovered that he'd never done so completely maliciously.   
  
He always kept his private life and emotions carefully under wraps, never truly letting on what he was thinking or feeling to anyone, ever. Even now, even as she knew he was thinking about past times that were important to him as he stood there stoically next to her, his face remained calm and neutral - the perfect psychiatrist's visage.   
  
"Do me a favor?"  
  
He looked down at her, his attention called away from his reminiscing. "Hmmm?"  
  
"Bring me my purse. I must look a wreck - and maybe I can fix most of the damage while my legs dry."  
  
He moved from her side to do as she asked, and she immediately regretted asking him. His proximity not only sheltered her from the breeze, but had been a psychological leaning post for a moment. She was glad when he returned to his spot, her purse in hand. "Here," he added, pulling his handkerchief from his sports coat breast pocket and handing it to her as well, "you could probably use this too." His delivery complete, he returned to studying the beauty of the beach in front of him, leaving her to her own thoughts once more.  
  
Miss Parker quickly set about repairing her face while she marveled at the restraint that he was demonstrating. Normally, even the slightest display of emotional distress had him probing her thoughts with cautious and sometimes barbed questions. Under normal circumstances, he would be offering a detailed psychoanalysis of her every word or act with very little prompting - more often than not at the most infuriating of times. Today, however, he seemed to have set his therapist's routine aside - left it behind him entirely, in fact - in favor of just being there and being supportive without serving any agendas, not even his own. This was a deeper, more personal side of Sydney that she wasn't used to seeing, a side of him she KNEW he wasn't used to sharing with anyone.   
  
"Syd?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
That snagged his attention away from the view again, and he looked back down at her with soft and slightly sad chestnut. "Why what?"  
  
"Why this? Why now?" She snapped the compact closed and tucked it in her purse, along with a handkerchief she intended to launder and return the next morning without fail.  
  
"I told you - you needed it." He looked up again. "And I knew you wouldn't know how to find it by yourself."  
  
"I'm not talking about the beach..."  
  
"Neither am I."  
  
She furled her brow as she bent forward to once again wipe at the sand on her feet and ankles, finding as he had claimed that now that they were completely dry, the sand wiped away far more completely. There was a depth to his cryptic response that would require some reflection to understand completely - and she found she wanted desperately to understand him for once. Something important was going on here, something that resonated so deeply within her that she was responding without knowing why. She followed his gaze out across the little dune and onto the shifting surface of the ocean - and then she knew.  
  
To whom did someone in whom others confided turn when they needed to lean somewhere? Who confessed the Confessor? How had Sydney managed to maintain his sanity in a job and a life so filled with insanity and tragedy for so many years?   
  
He'd just shown her - and just introduced her to the one thing in which she COULD trust implicitly. It wasn't God, it wasn't a person - it was... this. The immensity of the ocean and the fluid and changing face of the sea could handle emotional storms as well as hurricanes and still be shining and shifting and boundless the next day. And no, she would have never found this by herself, even if she had found the beach. This was an experience that needed to be passed along personally from one who knew to one who needed.  
  
She slipped her now stocking-clad feet back into her stilettos but, as she sat there still on the bumper of his Lincoln, found herself fighting an urge to snuggle up to him and cling to his hand for a moment. She looked up at his face and found him once more gazing down at her. "Do you get it now?" he asked gently.  
  
She nodded and let her eyes find the distant horizon. "Yeah," she replied, and then looked back up at him. "But I'm still going to need to talk to you too every once in a while."  
  
"The door to my office is always open for you, Parker, you know that," he smiled at her. "And speaking of which..."  
  
"I suppose," she sighed and let herself slip from the bumper back to her feet. Then, impulsively, she gave in to her urge and grabbed for his hand before he could start moving away. When the warm chestnut eyes met hers again, she found she had no words with which to express herself.   
  
Sydney smiled - pleased that his plan had worked so well and that she'd been so receptive once he'd gotten her here - and brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently, then let her go. A comfortable silence fell between them as they both climbed back into the car and buckled up to leave their refuge behind until the next time it was needed.  
  
For now, it was time for both of them to get back to work.  
Feedback, please: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com 


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